How does it feel to be Black in Baku?  The experience was unlike anywhere else I’ve traveled thus far.

The Flame Towers dominate the skyline of Baku

Every Black traveler who has more than a smattering of stamps in their passport has a story of being Black and abroad.

Sometimes you receive special treatment just for the color of your skin. But be equally prepared for subtle or overt racist treatment based on negative stereotypes. Then there are just random occurrences like having a popular Black celebrity’s name shouted at you in a market place. (I’ve been Michelle Obama, Halle Berry and Beyonce to name a few).

Baku was a whole different experience, though.  I reached levels of stardom and popularity that I didn’t think were possible.  Being Black in Baku was certainly a cultural experience I was not ready for.

Center of Attention

My first evening in Baku, I arrived at the hotel and waited for my friend to show up.  She too is a Black American woman. Having arrived earlier in the day, she decided to stroll around the city until my flight landed.

When we met up at the apartment that evening, she said that she had met a young Azerbaijani-Nigerian man while she was out and that he had offered to show us around the city to help us get acclimated.  She also mentioned that he had helped her ward off a number of locals who had gotten a little too into her personal space.

What?? Just a few hours of being in Baku and she had already had multiple instances of people approaching with questions, comments and cameras.  I had to see what beingBlack in Baku was all about.

So off we went with our local guide to see the city…and the locals.  My friend was not wrong. Within a few blocks of our hotel, I noticed a lot of pointing, heads turning and double takes.  While this is not unheard of, especially when I’ve traveled in countries like China, Cambodia and Turkey, it happened more often and more blatantly than I’d experienced before.

Luckily I did not feel threatened in any way and many times I just smiled and got a smile back. Still it was unnerving to turn around and see a whole group of people looking at you as if you were a celebrity.

Paparazzi

And before long came the photos.  People with cameras and camera phones at the ready approaching us with broken English, asking for a photo.  I had to admit the whole thing was kind of funny. I picture how it all goes down when this person shares the photo later on. How they describe the photo to their friends and family. Or what their Instagram caption will say.

“Look, a Black person!”

or

“This is my new Black friend.”  (even though they have no idea of what my name is or where I’m from).

But what quickly became clear to me was that I was the conciliation prize. My friend, who has darker skin than I do and who’s hair is in long braids, got way more attention that I did.

Unfortunately for photo seekers, my friend does not do pictures under any circumstances. We have been friends for five years and have traveled to four countries together, but I do not have a single photo with her or of her.

When the shy foreigner would approach my friend with a camera, her immediate answer was always a polite but firm “No”. If they then turned around and asked me for a picture, I almost always said yes. As I mentioned before, I think the whole thing is pretty funny and usually done with good intentions.  But just as often they wouldn’t even bother to ask me.  Apparently I did not look unique enough. I guess I better work on my tan!

Needless to say, there are plenty of photos of me floating around with random people I will likely never meet again.  There were a few times when a man acted a little too aggressive or I was just not in the mood and I would say no, but for the most part, I put on a smile and later laughed about it.  My only real requirement was that I was not in the photo alone. I’m happy to take a selfie with someone or pose with a group, but somehow a picture by my self on a stranger’s camera felt way too invasive.

He doesn’t know my name or where I’m from, but now we have a picture together.

After about a two days of this I finally asked myself, why should they be having all of the fun?  That’s when I started snapping pictures with my camera as well.  I suppose part of me began taking those photos to let the person see how it felt to pose for a stranger’s camera. But mostly I did it for the laugh.  No reason I can’t have fun pictures with people I meet on my travels too (even if I only met them because I was a bit unusual).

Shopping for souvenirs turned into a photo op with the store owner

What I am NOT a fan of is people trying to sneak my picture when I’m not looking. I’m sure it happens more often than I’m aware of, but when I do notice it, I am less than pleased.

While shopping for some souvenirs, we entered a high end bakery looking for some packaged sweets that we could take back to friends and family.  The staff at the front of the store were pleasant enough. With all of the gift wrapped boxes and signs written in English, I figured this was a place that saw its fair share of tourists.

But as I was looking at some products on the shelf, I happened to turn around and caught a glimpse of someone standing way back in the storeroom, partially obscured by a door, pointing their cellphone at me.  Upon seeing me notice them, the person quickly dropped the phone and moved out of view.  Nothing makes you feel like an oddity more than someone trying to sneak a picture of you.  Like I’m some sort of exotic creature instead of a regular human being with slightly darker skin.

But then I had to check myself.  Haven’t I done the same things in my travels?

I like to take photos of an interesting face or situation or outfit that speaks of the local culture. I am a bit shy and not a huge fan of rejection, so sometimes I will quickly snap a picture rather than making myself obvious or asking the person politely if it is all right with them.  Yet another important life lesson learned through travel.   That Golden Rule is Universal!  Going forward I am going to make an effort to ask people before I just take their picture.

And Beyond the Cameras

Even when no photos were requested, my friend and I garnered a good deal of attention.  It ran the spectrum from friendly hellos from shopkeepers and locals in the street, to others who wanted to have in depth conversations about who we were and where we came from.

I collected Instagram followers just walking through the city. After a nice welcome to their city, I would eventually get “What is your Instagram account? I would like to follow you.”

A guy who we passed regularly in the Old Town excitedly stopped me one day in the middle of the square.  He had downloaded some Michael Jackson songs on his phone.  He desperately wanted me to help him translate some lyrics that he couldn’t understand.  Even though I could have told him about the music lyrics websites that would have answered all of his questions, it was more fun to hang out for a few minutes engaging in a musical, cultural exchange.

One night, when walking through a popular pedestrian tourist area, a group of young guys saw my friend and I pass by. One guy, who probably spoke the most English of the group, was dispatched to approach us.  He wanted to let us know that he and his friends had a bet going on about where we were from. Some guessed France; others guessed the US.  When we confirmed that we were indeed Americans, he excitedly told us about his time studying in the States.

That bet settled and the door now open for conversation, the other guys came over to join us.  We talked US politics, different American accents and Taco Bell (the restaurant one guy missed the most) before we got around to confessing how strange we thought it was that we received so much attention in Baku.  This group of guys agreed that their fellow countrymen were on the more aggressive side when it came to encountering People of Color in Azerbaijan, but insisted it always came from a positive place.

At the Formula 1 Racetrack, I stopped to get a bite to eat. Before they handed me my gyro, they politely asked for a photo.

Parting Thoughts

On our last night, my friend and I had one final dinner at a restaurant that was in the center of touristy Old Town.  The food and wine were good, but we found the wait staff to be a bit odd.  A bit too attentive at times and hovering more than necessary.  Still we enjoyed our last meal and then as it was getting late, we paid the bill and headed back to the hotel.

Just outside the restaurant, we found the man who had been waiting on our table now sitting, smoking a cigarette and clearly waiting for us to pass by.  He cleared his throat and said good night, quickly followed by “May I ask you a question”.  He then spent about 2 minutes apologizing in advance for what he was about to ask.  “I’m sorry to ask this and I hope it doesn’t offend you.” “I hope you will not be angry at me for asking this.”

I kind of had a suspicion of what was coming, but his sentiments were so sincere that we just let him go on.  Eventually he got to his question. He had been watching a YouTube video and saw that some Black people in America became very angry when someone used the “N-word”. Why was that?

Yep! I saw that one coming.

Even though we were ready to get home and finish packing, we took the time to explain a bit of the history behind that word and how it would never be acceptable for him to use that word towards someone. How some words carry a lot of baggage and negative connotations and can be extremely offensive to a group of people.

By the time we said goodnight, my friend and I had learned something as well. As he began to understand how offensive the N-word is to us, he shared a word which most Azerbaijani’s found equally offensive.  While we had come to believe that the descriptors Azerbaijani and Azeri could be used interchangeably, he told that this in fact was not the case.  That he found the term Azeri to be both inaccurate and offensive and that we should not use that term when referring to the language, culture or people of Azerbaijan.

The first day we arrived in Baku, the young Azerbaijani-Nigerian man who showed us around used the word Azeri to refer to his mother who was from Azerbaijan and as a result we thought nothing of using that word in the same way. Perhaps this opinion was specific to the waiter or maybe it is universally offensive in the country. Since I left Baku that night, I did not have a chance to do further research, but I am curious to find out.

Since returning home, I’ve had a little time to reflect on how I was treated in Baku and how it impacted my view of the city. For the most part, I found the people welcoming and kind.  Some showed a bit more interest that I would have liked.  But when I laughed at the situation and just went with it, it wasn’t too much of a bother. In some instances I even learned a thing or two about myself.

Of course I was on vacation and in a light hearted mood during most of my stay.  If I had to live there and deal with that kind of odd fascination on a daily basis, I have no doubt that the humor would wain a bit.

Have you ever experienced this sort of attention, whether welcome or not, when you travel to a foreign country? Where were you and how did you deal with it? Please leave a comment below and let me know of your experience.

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